We have been abandoned by gods
or they are inside us for our destruction?
We stop crying the innocent deaths:
Who mourns for my indians?
Who weeps for the jungles
and their magic mountains?
We bought the laughter,
so we forget the names of suffering
which now break the ozone of our souls
for burning everyone.
Walls are crumbling,
economic production doesn't protec us,
the hidden bullets explode in our pockets.
It's war or it raises from myself-my own Frankenstein
that didn't learn to cry nor even is
forced to love me?
The giant is weak if he caresses the grapes
and allows children into his garden?
They're all our sons in flames:
like tender trees they become
the smoke of extermination camps.
Do we hope our enemies don't have human faces?
Once more I arm my fists against my own spirit.
Animals know when death comes,
It's us animals that have lost our footprints.
We don't understand we inhabit an era that it finishes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it is 'El fin de nuestra era'.. of course.. :)